


In the Shadows the Truth Lurks

by jonsasnow



Series: Jonsa Week 2017 [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Jonsa Week 2017, Post-S7, from arya's pov more specifically, jonsa, outside pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-25
Updated: 2017-10-25
Packaged: 2019-01-22 23:39:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12493488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jonsasnow/pseuds/jonsasnow
Summary: They whispered in the shadows, talk of the King in the North and his Lady of Winterfell. Whispers that wondered over the nature of their relationship. Arya could not hide her concerns any longer. She had to know if what they said about Jon and Sansa were true.





	In the Shadows the Truth Lurks

**Author's Note:**

> day 3 of jonsa week that is super late
> 
> whoops.
> 
> hope you guys enjoy it ! <3

The Northern houses squabbled like children fighting for a toy. 

In the dawn of winter, they all wish to lay out their petty differences and demand for solutions that could not be met so simply, and all for what? Honour? Pride? There would be no need for either when the Long Night arrived. Arya had not seen the Others, but if Jon believed them to be true, if he said that danger loomed on the horizon then she was inclined to trust him. But these lords, what do they care of the danger? 

Arya turned her head in disgust. It had never felt so true until now that she was not made to be a lady. Her sister, however – oh, how Sansa thrived; how she weaved through the squabble like she would her knitting. The woman that sat before her was a far cry from the girl that had once called her ‘horseface’ all those years past. She could not have foreseen this side of her sister; strong-willed and intelligent as she was. The Sansa of her past had been neither; and by the gods, did it make her an awful sister to be glad for it? Would she be damned for thinking so highly of the person her sister had become despite the pain that she’d endured to get here? 

But she was not the only to feel this way. In the days since Jon had returned with the Dragon Queen, Arya had seen changes in them both that she could not readily understand, but the way they worked together to meet the needs and demands of their people, it was hard to remember that Sansa had once been as estranged from their brother as strangers on the road. Here now in their home, she was his most trusted advisor and a confidante Arya suspected that Jon needed to navigate the waters of court, something he had always lacked. 

That was not all she had observed. 

There were whispers amongst the scullery maids; talk of the King in the North and his Lady of Winterfell; things that should not be said of a man and his sister. But where gossip thrived, beneath it were the seedlings of truth and so Arya watched and she listened. 

“The North will _never_ bend the knee to a Targaryen!” shouted Lord Glover, ever so vocal with his opinions, though Arya was inclined to tell him it was not needed and if he valued his head, he should do away with them. 

“Does the North always show such insolence to their king?” the white-haired queen demanded, her eyes flittering to Jon’s, as if hoping for the support that her brother would surely not provide. 

But he _had_ bent the knee to this woman and mayhaps Arya did not know her siblings at all.

“Do you know what we say in the North, your grace?” Sansa asked, speaking before Jon could open his mouth. Where she sat beside him, her brother had angled his body towards her, head inclined, eyes ever so watchful. “The North remembers, and what we remember is a Targaryen ruler that burnt our people. Our _family_. And we do not know you. We do not know the kind of ruler you are or yet may be.” Sansa kept her eyes forward, but Arya could see her fingers twitch on the table where she rested them. “But there is a war coming for us all. As we speak, the Others have breached the Wall. We do not have the time to be fighting over a throne that may not exist by the end of the Great War.” She looked to Jon, their eyes meeting and never wavering from one another. “We have to trust each other. We cannot fight a war amongst ourselves.” 

“Lady Sansa, the North cannot pledge their fealty to a king who would sooner sell it to a foreign ruler than to his people,” Lord Cerwyn said this time, ire dripping in his voice, and Arya’s grip on the dagger fastened at her side tightened. She may be furious with Jon, but he was still _her_ brother. “We have spoken amongst ourselves, m’lady. And we have decided to swear our loyalty to Eddard Stark’s trueborn daughter.”

Sansa’s eyes widened and the hand that had laid on the table curled into a fist. Where once Arya might have wondered over the loyalty of her sister to Jon, she could not in good conscience believe Sansa would ever betray him, but then, that was where her new problems have grown. This bond between them; it was concerning. 

“You would show such disrespect to your king?” the Dragon Queen demanded again. Her eyes blazed with fury, a lurking madness in them Arya had seen in many others. She longed to draw her dagger along the pale smooth column of her neck and see the crimson water drain from her body. This Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen had no business in the North and she would not have it if Arya had breath left in her lungs. 

“If our king would show such disrespect to his people,” Lord Cerwyn answered firmly. 

There was a moment of noise, voices breaking out to speak over one another, but a chair was pushed back, its legs scraping loudly against the floor. Jon had risen and silence immediately fell. “You have put your faith in me and now you believe I have failed you. I’ve only done what I believed was necessary for us to survive the Great War and we are wasting time arguing amongst ourselves. My… sister is right. It is not the time to be discussing this. We should be readying our most capable for the fight that is to come.”

Arya did not miss the hesitation and she thought back to the first whispers that lurked in the corridors when she had arrived back home. 

‘ _If the Lannisters could do it, why not them?_ ’ 

‘ _It had been their ruin, Alenis. Do you truly wish for our king and his lady sister to marry?_ ’

‘ _No. Perhaps. I don’t rightly know. But the North is safer with them both ruling. And do you tell me you have not seen the way he looks at her? That is not how a man gazes at his kin, I can tell you now._ ’

‘ _Hush now, your words will have us hanged!_ ’

The absurdity; the disgust that had roiled inside of her at how they spoke of Jon and Sansa. No, it could not be true. This longing they speak of had to have been a lie, and mayhaps it was that anger that had led Arya to accuse her sister so wrongfully of still being as naive and self-serving as she had been back then. But it concerned her that she might also be wrong about the nature of Sansa’s relationship with Jon. 

Was there more in the glances they shared? More than what was appropriate?

“But how can we fight in a war knowing that if we survive we would be forced into another for a throne we care not for?” Lady Mormont asked, startling Arya back to the present. “House Mormont knows no king but the king in the North, whose name is Stark. But if he wishes to bargain our independence away, perhaps we should be pledging our swords to a queen. _Our_ queen.” 

The Northern houses stood then and they looked to her sister. 

“I am flattered,” Sansa said slowly, standing too now, as her shoulder brushed Jon’s. “And I wish for nothing more than to serve you, but –” 

“But if that is the will of our people then I will not stand in the way,” Jon interrupted. Although his face remained impervious to what emotions may lie beneath, Arya knew her brother and there was undoubtedly fondness there, and… _pride_. 

He knew this would happen.

By the old Gods and the new, Jon _knew_ that there wasn’t any way for the Northern houses to readily accept a foreign ruler as their queen and that when it came to light what he had done, their only choice would be to force Sansa into that position and oust him as their king. 

In fact, if Arya was right, he _wanted_ this. 

He wanted this because… he didn’t expect to survive the war. 

Sansa must have gotten to the same conclusion because the look of barely restrained fury and pain mirrored her own. 

The Dragon Queen protested. There was talk of dying in the old world or something Arya could not bear the presence of mind to care. But by the end of the council meeting, all of the North was pledged to their new queen, the eldest daughter of Eddard and Catelyn Stark, and what past animosity that may have existed between the sisters fell away as pride found a new home in Arya’s heart. She too had pledged her own sword to Sansa and she would die by it to protect her sister and the home they had longed for so many years to return to. Winterfell was theirs and theirs alone. No white-haired queen could take that from them; dragons or not, Arya would stand by her home through it all. 

As the Northern houses dispersed, Arya remained in the shadows and watched as the Dragon Queen stormed off with her advisors. There was a look she sent her brother’s way, one that he had received but chose to ignore, as he instead followed a different queen out the doors. Arya decided to follow them too. Pride may reign in her heart, but the worry still warred there. She would not have her kin fall down a dark path that they may never return from, nor would she allow hurtful gossip to reach the ears of those who may use it to strike her family down.

The two wound through the corridors and entered the solar that had once been her father’s. Arya kept to the shadows until she could press her ear against the door and listen. Though muffled and soft like whispers, their voices were still distinct enough to hear. 

“Would it matter if I apologised?” 

“Does it please you, Jon, to always make plans without my consent? Am I not trustworthy enough? Or do you simply enjoy maddening me so?” 

“Sansa, that’s not what I was trying to do. I promise you it wasn’t. In fact, I was _listening_ to you.” 

“Listening to me?” 

“You asked me once if it would be so terrible if I listened to you and learn that there was more to this world than warfare. You asked me to be smarter than Robb, than father, and I did.” 

“By provoking the ire of a dragon queen and forcing our brethren to dismiss you as their king. I fail to see how that is smarter.” 

“Daenerys – she is made of fire. It burns in her and I feared for the survival of our people. I could not trust that she would fight for us when the time came. But she cared for me and I needed her to believe my affections were real so that if she might not fight for our people, she would fight for me. Pledging my fealty to her was the only way I knew how to do that. And I knew if I did, the North would turn their backs on me, but I could because they have you. They would turn to you and make you their queen, and there is no one I trust more with the safety of our people than you, Sansa. I did what I had to.” 

There was silence now, pregnant and heavy even from beyond the door where Arya stood listening. A chair was pushed back and a weight fell onto it with a soft thud.

“And are they? Are your affections for her real? Littlefinger said a marriage alliance between the two of you would be a wise choice and I can’t say there isn’t merit there.” 

“Mayhaps in another lifetime; in a world where there was no war; no duty. Or mayhaps that fire would still be there. She is a good person, Sansa, but no, my affections aren’t real… But if a marriage is what she needs to leave the North independent from her rule then I would oblige.” 

“So you would leave us again.”

“If there was any other way, I’d never leave you. This is my home. Wherever I may be, you must know that.”

Arya backed away from the door, her heart racing in her chest. So the whispers _were_ true. But there was no scandal here that she could discern. What feelings there may be were as much of a secret to them as they were to each other. 


End file.
